


can't make the two things co-exist

by Cirkne



Series: you could tell that I was a mess [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Grieving, M/M, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: What are some of the ways you’ve died?





	can't make the two things co-exist

**Author's Note:**

> you don't have to read the other fic to get this one 
> 
> this is mostly the fault of the td9 gc, so mwah @ them losers
> 
> title from don't let me cave in by the wonder years

v. 

What are some of the ways you’ve died?

The ending of this story might as well be the beginning, you are selfish, you are, you hope that he mourns you forever.

v.

He doesn’t go to the funeral. Does it matter if there’s a funeral? He’s the first person to say goodbye to you. You wish he were the last. He writes you a eulogy and doesn’t go to the funeral. You don’t go to the funeral. He names the eulogy. He turns it into an act, he charges money so people could see him mourn you on stage. He has always been like this. You hope he has always been like this. You have not known him for long, or at all. He saves you a seat, he-

v.

You were a risk analyst.

“He didn’t calculate- haha-” this is a comedy act. “You know I was there? Like, I held- I was holding him.” He was holding you. 

iv.

He is holding you in his arms, he is crying and you feel so cold, you want to promise him that you will hold on but you have never lied to him before and you’re not going to start now. You knew this was coming, you could feel it from the moment you saw his face again. You were not meant to be happy. You love him. You have always loved him, you are content to die for him. Next to him. You are coughing up blood. You know what he wants to tell you and you do not think you can handle it. You do not think he can handle it either. Some love stories end before they turn into love stories. A tragedy written in your own blood. You have always loved him.

What are some of the ways you’ve died? 

v. 

“And he was just- He made a joke? Because- and people ask me this, they go, Richie, do you wish his last words were different? But I- he was trying to make me laugh.” 

Does he wish your last words were different? What were your last words? Were you trying to make him laugh? You made a joke. 

“Because he knew- because- I’m the one that turns everything into a joke, so he- like, he knew me, you know? That sounds stupid but he- I never told him. It seemed so fucking- It was scary, alright, and I regret it, I do. I should have told him. He was trying to make me laugh.”

Were you trying to make him laugh? He never told you and you never-

You made a joke.

i.

You make jokes. You are thirteen. You are dirty. Your mother says you are sick and your mother knows these things so she must be right. You dream of long fingers and pale skin and collarbones. You dream of laughter more than you do your own body. You dream of messy hair and glasses, it’s always glasses, it’s always the same fucking glasses. You wake up wishing you were dead.

What are some of the ways you’ve died?

Does it matter? Does love matter when you’re this young? Does- or could- it last? He’s always there, even when he isn’t. He’s always loud.

What are some of the ways you’ve died? 

You can only think about him. You are dirty in a way that no other thirteen-year-old boy has ever been dirty. Will it last? 

v.

“And my friends,” your friends, too, you know this. “They’re very nice people, they’re the reason I’m still here after- you know, when someone like that’s gone you don’t really want to- anyway, they’re nice people and they’re getting married, finally, I’m really happy for them, I am.”

Could you be happy? How long has it-

“And they- god, they want me to speak at their wedding and I- what am I supposed to say, you know?” You don’t know. “Hey, guys, I can’t look at you without thinking about what me and Eds- fuck, yeah, his name was Eddie, by the way, and he hated when I called him Eds-” did you? Were you ever capable of hating anything he did? Why didn’t you tell him? “But I- I was a brat, you know, and in love with him, anyway, um, I’m getting off-topic. I don’t know how to tell my friends that the happiest day of their lives will only remind me of the worst day of mine.”

You think of him. You think of him. He is alone. On their wedding day. He is alone and you-

You wish you could be with him. On their wedding day.

iii.

Your wedding day, before anything else, reminds you of whiskey. It might be the other way around. You throw up in a hotel bathroom and pretend that you are happy. Half a year ago, your then-girlfriend held your hand at your mother’s funeral, so you bought a ring. There’s a lesson here to be learned about impulsiveness and the fear of being alone. You have always been alone. As far as you can remember, anyway. You can’t remember, anyway. 

You’ve heard that humans don’t remember pain but this fear, this fear you recognize better than anything you’ve known before. 

What are some of the ways you’ve died?

v.

“God, the energy in here right now, haha, no, you can laugh,” Can you? Can _he_? “It’s- It’s fine, listen, this is a comedy show. Here’s- okay, and this is funny, I promise. Right in the middle of the front row there’s an empty seat and- I didn’t ask them to reserve it for him or anything like that, this isn’t a memorial.” 

Is this not a memorial? Why are you here? He didn’t go to the funeral. He named the eulogy. Why are you here?

Except, you know, don’t you? You have always known.

“I- I bought him a ticket, actually. No- don’t- don’t aw me, this isn’t- this is funny, alright, this is a funny story. I am forty years old. I bought a ticket for someone I was in love with when I was thirteen.”

Thirteen. Why didn’t you tell him? Was he never there to hear it? Was he never there?

ii.

He’s right there. Everything you own is in boxes. You are sitting at the foot of his bed. You’re the first one here. The first one to your own goodbye party. Your mother is making you wake up at five the next morning so you can leave and never look back. He’s right there. He’s been finding ways to move closer to you ever since you came over. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, you know what you want to tell him and you cannot work up the courage. He keeps saying your name, he’s abandoned the nicknames, he’s abandoned the jokes, you’ve never seen him like this before. You don’t know this yet but some part of you can feel it, this is the end.

What are some of the ways you’ve died?

You are going to leave him.

What are some of the ways you've died?

v.

“Anyway, thank you for being here, New York, this is the end of the show.”

This is the end of the show. This is the end. He wrote you a eulogy. He was the first person to say goodbye to you. The ending of this story might as well be the beginning. You hope he mourns you forever because he didn’t get to love you for a fraction of that, or at all.

What are some of the ways you’ve died?


End file.
